


Fractured

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Manipulation, Escape, Guilt, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Recovery, Serious Injuries, Slash, Trauma, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Izaya leaves Ikebukuro, survival instinct kicks in and pulls him, of all places, right back where he started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters have been edited slightly.

Izaya’s finishes earlier than he expected. Shiki’s only been gone a few hours. He will be pleased.

For a moment, Izaya just sits there. It's not often he can enjoy such freedom. Unlike in Ikebukuro, he can hear the silence here: no birds, no traffic, no people. Even now, it still feels odd. 

He lowers his feet with caution and stands. The wheelchair sits in the corner, but he never uses it in the apartment. Shiki says not to feel ashamed if he does feel the need to use it, but still.

He goes over to the window. Walking doesn’t cause him much pain now. Looks out onto the street. He hasn’t been outside in two years.

Something dulled but insistent in the back of his head pulls him away, back into the bedroom. He doesn't know what prompts him, but he takes his wallet out of the drawer. He has to brush the dust off it. To his surprise, it is all intact, not one note touched, no card missing. Not that Shiki needed his money.

For a moment he just stands there, feeling his own heart. He holds his wallet like a child with a toy.

A voice comes out of the mess that is his head, and for once it's clear enough to make sense.

_If you can walk as far as the station, you have to get out of here._

He shakes his head as if someone has actually spoken to him.

 _Get out of here?_   Where would he go? He hasn’t set foot outside the apartment since he had moved in. His legs couldn’t take the strain. They had told him so. They'd give out before he was barely round the block, never mind at the station. The wheelchair, somehow, just isn’t an option.

Even as he's thinking all this, the invisible leash pulls him out into the hall. His hands are trembling as he slides his arms through the coat – it’s a little big on him now - as he pulls on his shoes. He catches his reflection in the hall mirror, faded bruising, but he doesn’t look long. If he does, he knows he’ll be lost.

_You have to get out of here._

He hovers at the front door. Would he really dare? Shiki isn’t due back for hours, isn’t likely to call, but a second voice is screaming in his head that he’ll collapse before he even makes it halfway, he’ll come back in agony. That he should just sit down and take a minute, that he should put the wallet back and maybe have a lie down, take some painkillers-

_No._

His old voice comes back fighting, pulling him on and out the door, down the elevator into the foyer. All the way out into the street. His legs feel fine. He’s walking along the street like everybody else, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And part of him, on some level, isn't at all surprised, because he knows that if he stays it's only a matter of time until Shiki kills him, and he's not there yet. Despite everything, he still doesn't want to die. 

He puts his hood up as he gets into the more crowded part of town. His heart hurts more than his legs: he’s convinced he’ll run into Shiki, or one of Shiki’s associates, at any moment, and what will he say? _Just popping out for some air?_ If that happens he may as well throw himself in front of the nearest truck.

He shakes his head to clear it. Keeps going. Avoids the eyes of those around, convinced that something must be off about him, must make him stand out.

He’s so focussed on this, on putting one leg in front of the other, that he doesn’t notice he’s at the station until he recognises the tiles. Had it always been this close?

He lifts his head and stares. The crowds, the wall clock, the departures board, the ticket machines, the stores. His knees waver, and he has to put his hand o the wall, just in case. People edge around him politely when he doesn’t move.

Then that helpful leash snaps him forward, the last few steps to the ticket machines. He buys a single ticket to Ikebukuro, in cash. His hands fumble, and it takes him a while. He tends to be clumsy now, arms almost deformed looking inside his coat, courtesy of Shizuo, but he is used to it. And he can't think about Shizuo now.

He has twenty minutes. He goes to the platform. It isn’t busy, being a weekday afternoon. He doesn’t have to sit next to anybody when he boards. He keeps the hood up anyway.

His heart jumps and sinks as the train begins to move, and Kanto falls behind. He has no plan, not much money; his bank card will be expired, the accounts likely drained. No power. No friends.

Ikebukuro.

He breathes in and out a few times. Ikebukuro is _his_ turf, not Shiki’s, however long it's been. He knows Ikebukuro. He has an advantage there, and Shiki will tread carefully if, _when_ , he comes. Shiki avoids Ikebukuro like the plague. Izaya can do this. 

The most obvious choice is his family. But he doesn’t want to risk it, own turf or no. And he cannot let his family see the state he’s in. 

Shinra. He always goes to Shinra. Shinra will not turn him away, even now.

But, he has not seen Shinra in years. Shinra could have moved. He could be away. He could-

 _Stop_ , he orders. He’s exhausted. He decides he will find a payphone as soon as he gets to Ikebukuro. He’ll call Shinra. If Shinra is unavailable, he will call Simon, or Kadota, or even Masaomi or Mikado. He doesn't want to think about what he'll do if they all laugh in his face (and surely they will). He will deal with each problem as he comes to it.

Thinking this, Izaya tucks himself into his hood and closes his eyes.

* * *

 Ikebukuro unnerves him. It is far louder than Kanto’s station, brighter, wider, more bustling, familiar, crowded, hot, confusing. He stumbles along with the crowd and lets the invisible leash pull him to the payphone.

He doesn’t even have to think about the numbers before he punches them in, he’s dialled Shinra so many times over the years. Good old Shinra. Who wouldn’t, who _couldn’t_ , let him down now.

The doctor answers after the first few rings.

“Hello?”

“Shinra.” Izaya's head swims with his voice. It's like he's coming back from the dead. “It’s Izaya.”

There’s a pause of disbelief on the other end. Then Shinra’s laughing. But not in the way he'd feared. 

“Izaya!" He says, and the warmth of it nearly makes him sob.  "It’s been so long! I should be so mad at you, but, I don't know...are you all right?”

It takes him a moment to speak. “I’m- “ he swallows. “I’m sorry, Shinra, I need your help.”

“What?” He goes into doctor mode just like that. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the station.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s a little pause. Izaya hears him scurrying around. “I’m going to – no, I’ll send Celty, it’ll be faster. Are you all right to ride with her? How badly hurt are you?”

"You can't send Celty," he says, thinking of everything he's done.

"It's OK," Shinra says. "We'll get to all that later. She's OK."

Izaya hears him talking to her in the background. He wonders how she's taking it, if they'll fight over this. Suddenly something else occurs to him.

“Shinra,” he blurts.“I don’t have any money.”

Shinra barely skips a beat. “That’s OK.”

“No, I mean I – I don’t know if I have any money _at all_.”

“Izaya.” Shinra’s tone doesn't waver. “Let’s just get you here, OK?  I’m sending Celty right now. Go wait by the Salad Bar, where it’s quiet.”

Izaya slumps against the phonebox with relief. “She doesn’t have to hurry,” he mumbles. “I’m all right.”

“Sure,” he says, not sounding at all convinced. “Sit tight, OK? I’ll see you soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

He tucks himself into a corner where Shinra told him to wait, hooded, hands pocketed, eyes half open with exhaustion. He feels as tired as if he ran here.

The magnitude of what he’s done still hasn’t sunk in. He feels like a little kid playing a game, like Masaomi or Mikado with their bullshit they'd bee so worried about.

Standing there, it dawns on him that he's now gone too far to go back. Shiki will know he's missing by now. Izaya doesn't want to think about the implications of this.

It's then that he notices a pair of unmoving leather boots planted in front of him in the crowd, follows them up to the body. The helmet. Celty just stands there looking at him. After a moment, she holds out her phone.

_Are you all right?_

He nods. He can’t speak. She seems to understand. Her shadows wrap into a helmet around his head, and she takes him to her bike.

* * *

“Oh, shit.” The normally poker-faced doctor grimaces as he eases Izaya’s sleeves up. “Who set your arms, Izaya? This is bad. They’ve really, really botched it.”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t care. He’s used to his arms now.

“What about my _legs_ , Shinra?”

“What about them?”

Shinra doesn’t even look up from the monstrosity of Izaya’s arms, like a repulsed kid at his first dissection.

“My legs,” Izaya says impatiently. “You know, my main injuries from Shizuo?”

Shinra frowns up at him. “Er, your _arms_ were your main injuries from Shizuo, Izaya. But sure, I can take a look.”

He gets on the floor and rolls up Izaya’s jeans. He pats him down, presses his calf, squeezes, rotates his ankle, bends his knee, then repeats the procedure on the other leg. None of it hurts. His muscles just feel a little tired.

“Stand up,” Shinra finally commands. He makes Izaya walk around while he stays on the floor watching him.

“Your legs hurt?”

“Well, yes.”

“Whereabouts?”

“All over.”

“What kind of pain? Dull, sharp, throbbing, aching?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which?”

Izaya stares at him, with a vague sense of alarm that he's missing something important. “I don’t know. All of them. Dull.”

“And how often is the pain? Constant, frequent, when under strain...?”

He shakes his head. “What is this, a test? My legs are fucked, Shinra. They always hurt.”

Shinra looks at him.

“Do they hurt right now?”

Izaya opens his mouth to answer him. Stops himself as he realises.

Shinra eases himself up on the couch and gestures for Izaya to sit.

 “There’s nothing wrong with your legs, Izaya.”

Izaya stares at him. His heart’s going wild. “But I’m disabled,” he says. “I - I have a wheelchair.”

“Who said you’re disabled?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and he really doesn’t. “Doctors.”

“What kind of doctors? Hospital doctors, or doctors like me?”

Izaya doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

Shinra sighs.

“You know you have to be really careful with those, especially when it’s serious,” he says gently. He gives Izaya’s legs a few more prods. “How did you get here? How did you get to the train station?”

“I walked.”

“How far? How long did it take?”

Izaya shakes his head.

“Could you see the station from your house?”

“No.”

Shinra smiles at him and withdraws his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with your legs,” he repeats. “They healed finr. Probably tough from all the running. They probably just feel weak if you don't use them much. It’s your arms I’m worried about.”

Izaya frowns, not listening. He still doesn’t understand.

“But it was my legs that took the brunt of it when Shizuo hit me. I couldn’t walk.”

Shinra is shaking his head.

“No, no, your arms took the brunt of it, Izaya. He hit you, remember? He didn't kick you. You could still walk. People saw it. He hit you, and you blocked him with your _arms_.”

Izaya is staring at him.

“You don’t remember?”

“I…”

He thinks about it. He doesn’t know what he remembers. He was _sure_ he couldn’t walk. Didn’t they – tell him that? Then he realises. Of course they did.

Shinra adjusts his glasses.

“Where you on any painkillers or other prescription drugs after it happened?”

“Yes.” This he remembers. “A lot.” 

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. Painkillers. I’ve never had to take them before, I don’t know the brands.”

"For how long?"

"Well...always? I mean, not as much, but I still take them now when I'm having a bad day. I didn't bring them, though. I didn't..." he trails off.

Shinra doesn’t say anything further.

Izaya stares at his legs for a long time. He can’t bring himself to look at his arms.

“I've been so fucking stupid.”

Shinra offers him a sad smile.

“Well, at least you woke up eventually.”

* * *

 Izaya turns it all over in his head that night in Shinra’s guest room.

He’s realising the level of shit he’d been in. How lucky he was. He always knew it was bad, as bad as things could get, but…how had he let it go on? Because he had no alternative, because he couldn't think straight?

He remembers the first time Shiki hit him, for no reason at all, the screaming pain that had gone up his arms and stayed there for hours. The urgency in his head going from a quiet warning to a blaring siren – _you have to get out, you have to leave,_ now – and, what had he done, he had gone back to sleep. He had taken painkillers and gone to bed and stayed, slept, for _another 18 months,_ ignoring that he knew something was wrong.

His arms have to be re-broken, reset, all over again. Surgery, followed by weeks of plaster and pain. Physiotherapy. A shrink, if Shinra's threats are to be taken seriously.

His arms. He can have them operated on one at a time, for better mobility, or both together, to get all the pain over with at once. Shinra tells him to think on it.

He and Celty bring him something to eat. They tell him to stay as long as he wants. They won’t tell anyone he’s here. 

He feels the bones in his arms and he doesn’t sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When he gets home, Shizuo kicks his shoes off automatically, wincing when it hurts. He growls with annoyance, as he does every day. It’s been weeks since he kicked through that wall, and his leg's still killing him.

He’d been putting it off, but now he’s thinking he really has to call Shinra. Whenever it eases enough for him to forget about it, it comes back with a vengeance. Like now. 

Without Izaya, he has nothing to take his rage out on. He has had to resort to inanimate objects. But, with Izaya no longer causing problems for him in the first, he reckons it kind of, mostly, balances out.

Except he'd kicked the wall inadvertantly _because_ of Izaya, when the interviewer had been asking too many fucking questions. How he felt about crippling someone. Why he had gone for Izaya in the first place when they were kids, before Izaya even said a word to him. Like he was the only kid in the world to make mistakes.

He screws his eyes shut and feels blindly for his cigarettes. Fucking Izaya. He's who knows how many miles away and he's still causing Shizuo shit.

Whatever. He turns on the news and smokes, gets out his phone. He calls Shinra, massaging his leg with his free hand.

“Hey,” he says when the doctor picks up. “You free sometime this week? I busted my leg and it’s just not getting better on its own.”

“Ah, Shizuo, my most loyal customer,” the doctor chuckles. “Perhaps. Wednesday's looking good, say in the evening?”

“Cool. Tom and I finish up near yours around 8."

“Oh,” Shinra says in a different tone, when Shizuo's about to hang up. There’s an awkward pause. “I’m afraid you can’t come _here_.”

“Huh?” Shizuo tries to remember when he was last there, if he broke something. “I thought you only came out in emergencies, at extra expense?”

“Oh, I can come to you just this once. No extra cost.”

"OK..."

There’s something off about the way he says this.

“But isn’t there more stuff at your place?”

“Oh, I’m sure none of that will be necessary. It’s probably just a sprain.”

Shizuo’s not convinced.

“Is everything OK there?”

“Of course!”

Shinra is a terrible liar. Shizuo waits him out.

Shinra sighs and gives up. “Shizuo,” he says. “Can I ask you, as a friend, to not get mad when I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

“OK.” He mutes the TV. “What’s up?”

“I mean, as a favour, as a friend to me and especially to Celty- “

“Yeah, yeah, I said it’s fine. You know I’ve got better at that kind of thing since Izaya left.”

He hears Shinra breathe in at that.

“Izaya’s _here_ , Shizuo.” Shizuo hears him gulp. “Don’t get mad. Believe me when I say it’s a very necessary situation.”

Shizuo hardly hears him. 

He forces himself to breathe.

“Fine,” he says. He surprises even himself at how calm he sounds. The room clouds back into view. “I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Thank you.” Shinra’s voice drops with relief. “I, uh, I knew you’d understand.”

“Yeah.” Shizuo’s mind is whirring, trying to take it in. “What’s up with him?”

Shinra hesitates.

“It’s his arms.”

“Oh.” Just like that the guilt is back, flooding his gut. He won’t sleep tonight. “Should I come Thursday, then?”

“Um, Izaya’s actually _staying_ here, Shizuo. He’s been here for quite a while. It's necessary, like I said. But don't worry, he won't do anything. He hasn't even been out.”

Shizuo frowns. This is still unsettling. “Can't he go out for like an hour for me to come over?"

“Uh, not really.”

“OK..."

This is too weird. He thinks about it. “Well, why should we have to tiptoe round each other? We're both adults. I’m fine seeing the flea so long as he doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, he won’t.” Shinra still sounds uncertain. “It’s just that he’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” Shizuo prompts, when Shinra doesn’t finish.

“Oh…don’t worry about it.” He resumes his usual tone. “If you’re sure it’s fine, come by on Wednesday by all means. Let me see when I can fit you in.”

* * *

 There’s no sign of Izaya in Shinra’s apartment, unless he's hiding in the guest room. Shizuo hopes he doesn't look on edge. For all he said about acting like adults, he knows _he'll_ be the one to lose it if Izaya so much as looks at him the wrong way, and he doesn't want to go there.

Shinra is flustered, rushing, chatting away, as if he's forgotten the implications of the situation. He doesn’t mention Izaya at all. Shizuo thinks of what he said – Izaya’s arms, necessary situation, that he couldn’t go out – and wonders if Izaya is bedbound. The thought makes him uneasy. He automatically feels in his pocket for his lighter.

“I’m running a little late,” Shinra tells him apologetically. “Let me make one phone call and then we’re set, OK?”

“Sure.”

He takes his cigarettes out to the balcony.

And nearly drops them when he sees Izaya.

The informant’s frozen in a corner of the balcony floor, knees up, watching Shizuo like a snake. His left arm’s bound in cast, his right rather awkwardly holding a cigarette. His eyes are red, like he hasn’t slept, but he otherwise looks exactly the same.

In old circumstances, he would have laughed at Shizuo's surprise. Instead, they just stare at each other like animals.

Shizuo lets out the breath he’s been holding and straightens.

“Izaya.”

Izaya’s head moves a touch.

“Shizuo.”

He sounds the same, too. Shizuo’s eyes fall to the cigarette.

“Smoking now?”

“I picked up the habit.”

Shizuo says nothing. He tears his eyes away. He leans his weight against the balcony – he’s not sitting on the floor with the flea – and takes out his own cigarettes.

Izaya looks back out, already losing interest. His cigarette burns untouched. He barely inhales, barely brings it to his lips at all, as if it is just for effect.

Shizuo watches him without looking like he’s watching. Izaya doesn’t look his way again once.

There’s definitely something off about him. It’s the way he’s staring, the way he’s not saying anything. It's hard to tell if he's in pain or just bored. Shizuo wonders if Shinra’s got him on something, Valium, or something stronger.

Izaya has the ash tray, so he has to dab his ash over the edge. It is the most unpleasant cigarette, and the most unpleasant sunset, of Shizuo’s life.

They’re just getting used to each other when Shinra comes crashing through the doors.

“Oh,” he says, bemused, as they stare at him blankly. “I thought you guys had, I don’t know, killed each other.” He shakes his head. “You ready, Shizuo?”

“Sure.”

He smokes down the last of his cigarette. There is more than half of Izaya’s left.

Shinra is smiling. “Great, I’ll make some tea.”

He Shizuo by the arm and pulls him, rather more hurriedly than necessary, through the door. Perhaps he didn't want to push it. 

Shizuo raises his eyebrows once they’re alone.

Shinra just shakes his head.

He looks back at the balcony, even though he can't see Izaya at this angle. Weird. The whole thing is just really, really weird. He didn't know what he expected if he were to ever see Izaya again, but it definitely wasn't this. 

“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Shizuo offers.

Shinra doesn’t meet his eye. His jaw tightens.

“You should have seen him when he arrived.”

* * *

Izaya’s in the same spot on the balcony a week later, like some kind of strange pet, like he hasn’t moved. He holds a cigarette in his good hand, and rests the cast around his knees. He looks completely blank, indifferent, to seeing Shizuo again.

Shizuo looks down at him with distaste as he lights up.

“Still here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Izaya casts a contemptuous eye over Shizuo’s leg, where the bandages bulk out of his trousers. “Are you losing your touch?”

“Piss off.”

He stays on his end of the balcony and settles down to smoke, to ignore Izaya completely.

“Can I ask you something weird and stupid?”

Shizuo gives a start, and looks at Izaya warily. He is still poker faced, but the change in tone makes him uneasy. “I guess.”

“When we fought – I don’t remember it too clearly – it was my legs, right, that got hurt?”

He doesn't look like he's winding Shizuo up. He looks completely serious.

“Uh, I guess you hurt your legs,” Shizuo says carefully. He hates talking about this. “You were limping. But it was your arms that really got it.”

“My arms,” he repeats. He looks puzzled.

“Yeah." Shizuo wonders again about Valium, or if Izaya has a concussion. "I punched you and you blocked it with your arms.”

He does that staring thing again, and it is creepier than any of his smirks. It's like he's had a lobotomy. "Funny," he says, narrow eyed. “I could have sworn it was my legs.”

Shizuo says nothing.

They smoke in silence for some time.

Well. Shizuo smokes. Izaya holds the cigarette and stares, occasionally inhales a little.

Shizuo looks over several times until he can’t stand it any more. “You’re not even smoking. You’re just holding the damn thing.”

Izaya’s head snaps up and his eyes flash back to life.

“I’m sorry, is there an etiquette for smoking now?”

“It’s just that you’re wasting the damn things.”

“Oh how awful, I’m letting all the potential diseases float away. Remind me to save you the rest when I get bored of them.”

“Fuck you.”

They turn away from each other in angry silence.

Izaya, at least, is not as disturbing to look at now. He's less catatonic when he's pissed.


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing Shizuo's calf is still not steady when taking his weight, Shinra makes him keep his leg strapped up for an extra week, and then come back. Shizuo is not pleased. He does not want another awkward smoke with the flea. Maybe he really is losing his touch. It was only a wall. 

Or, maybe, he'll just hold out and save his smoke for after the appointment. It'll be a sweet reward. Or maybe Shinra will hurry the hell up for once.

But when he gets to Shinra's place, it is Izaya who answers the door.

He looks at Shizuo with distaste.

“Shinra’s running late,” he tells him. He steps back to let Shizuo inside.

“How late?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, 20 minutes. Tea?”

“No, I’m good.”

Forgetting his resolution, he takes his cigarettes out onto the balcony. He figures he deserves it. Izaya thankfully doesn’t join him. He’s typing on Shinra’s laptop on the sofa. Shizuo hears him turn on the news.

He enjoys a long, solitary cigarette, almost longer than 20 minutes, until it starts to get cold. He goes back inside and pointedly raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me,” Izaya says, still typing. “Why don’t you call him?”

“Er, could you? My phone’s dead.”

Izaya sighs like it’s the biggest inconvenience in the world.

Shizuo hears Shinra talking before Izaya even says anything.

“Oh,” Izaya says now. His eyes flick to Shizuo. “Yeah, he’s here.”

He hands the phone over.

“Shizuo.” Shinra is a little out of breath. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve just been called back to my appointment. It’s kind of urgent. Do you mind waiting another hour?”

“An hour?” he repeats. He sees Izaya twitch. “Maybe I should just come back tomorrow.”

“No can do, I’m swamped tomorrow. This whole week’s really bad. Just wait an hour so I can cross one more thing off my list? I’ll do you a discount.”

This sways him. He already gets mate-rates off Shinra, but his injury bills all add up.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Shinra’s voice sinks with relief. “Make yourself at home, OK? Or, you know, ask Izaya for anything. I've told him to be nice.”

Shizuo grunts.

“Celty’ll be home soon anyway. See you.”

Shizuo sighs when he hangs up. He turns to the TV Izaya so thoughtfully turned on for him. Izaya takes back his phone without comment. He works on whatever it is he’s doing, typing impaired by the one arm in cast, occasionally biting his lip in concentration. He doesn’t acknowledge Shizuo again.

Shizuo watches the news. He gets the remote and changes channel, turns to a movie he can’t get into. Fidgets. Checks his watch. Barely 10 minutes have passed.

He casts a grudging eye over Izaya.

“What’s up with you, anyway?”

Izaya holds up his cast arm, deadpan, for Shizuo’s inspection without even looking up.

“That it? I thought you couldn’t leave the house?”

“I leave the house.” Izaya does look up now, annoyed. “What’s up with _you_?”

“I kicked a wall.”

He waits, but Izaya doesn't even smirk. His eyes wander to something on the TV for a moment, but they are vague, unfocussed. He goes back to the laptop like his life depends on it.

Shizuo gives up and leaves him to it.

For about five minutes.

“You too good to talk to me now, flea?” Izaya jumps like he’d forgotten he’s there. Shizuo doesn't know why he keeps going, but he can't stand it, the silence is goading him more than anything. “Somebody neuter you or what?”

Izaya flinches, and Shizuo feels an automatic little twinge of guilt. He knows he shouldn’t feel bad about anything he says to Izaya, but he can’t help it. He's never seen Izaya flinch before.

“I just meant," he amends, grudgingly, lamely. "Where’ve you been?”

“Kanto.” Izaya frowns and doesn’t elaborate. He doesn't even snap back at Shizuo's for his comments. He is clearly not in the mood for small talk. His concentration appears to have broken however, as he casts Shizuo a considering, if wary, look. “Do you want to have a drink?”

Shizuo meets his eye in surprise.

Izaya’s eyebrows are raised a touch.

"What for?"

Izaya shrugs.

"It might shut you up."

Shizuo bites back his temper and thinks about it. It will certainly make the next hour less torturous.

“Why not.”

* * *

The sake is good, and strong enough to instantly make the air more breathable. Izaya leaves the bottle between them on the coffee table.

“You keep looking at me.”

Izaya doesn't look at _him_ as he says this, but he is as accurate as ever. Shizuo hates him.

“Sorry, your highness.” Shizuo rolls his eyes. He shifts, lowers his voice. “I heard you were disabled.”

Izaya doesn’t smile.

“So did I.”

Shizuo gives him a strange look.

“So, what happened?” he asks, when Izaya doesn't elaborate.

“What?” Izaya’s head snaps up. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked.

“You know. That fight we had.” He takes another drink. It helps. He really doesn't like talking about this, but he needs to know. “I didn’t go near you that night. I hadn't for a while. What made you go all sociopathic like that?”

Izaya frowns and looks away.

“I had to,” he says eventually. “We were getting worse as we got older. We had some really close calls. And you can’t say it was all me; there were plenty of times were you came looking for me just because you had a bad day. One of us was going to go too far sooner or later and, let’s face it, with your temper, it was likely to be you. And you had an obvious advantage. So,” he takes another drink himself. He hasn’t looked at Shizuo once since he started talking. “I was tired of feeling that way all the time. I did the smart thing.”

Shizuo takes a moment to absorb this. He can see Izaya's point, although 'smart' may not have been the word he'd use.

“Exactly,” Izaya says, seeing his face. “It was going to happen anyway. I just wanted to have the upper hand when it did. Besides,” He adjusts the laptop on his knees, crossing his legs. Shizuo notes the apparent ease of flexibility with which he does this with some relief. “I admit it, it would have felt good. You know. Winning. Killing you. You are the only person I’ve never been able to beat, and you were always getting in the way. Of course I wanted you gone once and for all. You can’t say you felt differently.”

“You made my life hell for no reason.”

“Well, I’m paying for it now, aren’t I?” His tone is light, but edged. He's still talking into the laptop, but hasn't resumed typing. “And you may remember that it was you who started this in the first place. You went for me in school before I even said a word to you.”

“You were smirking at me,” he growls, remembering. “My temper was worse back then. I started a lot of fights for a lot of stupid reasons. You gonna hold it against me for the rest of my life?”

“No.” He pauses, considering. “I liked the look on your face when you realised I could fight back.” He smiles to himself. “It was funny. It was exciting. So I kept pushing you. And you can’t say you never got anything out of it either. But, I guess it got out of hand.”

“No shit.” He looks at the TV without watching it, takes another drink. It’s pretty strong. He’s a mellow drunk however, so he’s not too concerned about it. “So what about now?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m getting the cast off and I’m out of here in a few weeks, so you can relax when you come over.”

Shizuo says nothing.

“It just seems so petty now, doesn't it.” His voice is flat. “All of it.” He sees Shizuo looking at him and rolls his eyes, slams the laptop shut. “Are we drinking or what?”

“You’re the one taking your time,” Shizuo points out.

“I haven’t drank in two years.”

“Just smoked?”

“Yeah.” He gives a humourless little laugh. Then he frowns. “No. That was just when I got back.”

Shizuo tops up his own glass. "Shinra won't mind?" He gestures to the bottle. They've already knocked back quite a bit more than he'd realised. 

"No. I'll pay him back."

Shizuo nods. He watches Izaya's coordination loosen as he drinks, feels his own going with it. Wonders vaguely what had happened if he and Izaya had drunk around each other years ago. Maybe it would have been catastrophic, but maybe not. He glances at the clock, double checking his phone when he doesn't quite believe it. 

“When’s Celty home?”

“I don't know. She's pretty nocturnal.” Izaya shrugs. He looks at the TV and changes channel like he’s looking for something. “Something terrible should be starting soon.”

“Where the hell’s Shinra?”

“Call him.” 

Shinra doesn't pick up.

Shizuo sits there feeling drunk and vaguely cheated.

Izaya glances over at him. He pushes the bottle towards him with his toes.

“Finish it," he says. 

* * *

"You're a weird drunk," Shizuo tells him, after they've cracked open another bottle. This one is sweeter, and he puts it away more quickly than he probably should.

"I don't feel weird," he says. He has his legs crossed again, and perches rather dangerously on the arm of the couch. "I feel...normal."

"Normal, huh? Drinking makes you less of a hyperactive freak?"

"No," he giggles. "The other way. I feel...myself again."

Shizuo just looks at him. Doesn't know how to ask about this. Instead he says, "You're going to fall off the couch."

"No, I'm not."

He does, of course, and it's the funniest thing Shizuo's ever seen.

"My fucking arm," he complains, but it doesn't bother him enough to get up off the floor and do something about it.

"I hope Shinra's OK," he says suddenly.

"Yeah," Shizuo says. "Maybe he's hoping I'll kill you. Have you been a bad house guest?"

"I've been an amazing house guest," he whines. "I made them brownies."

"Really?" He looks at Izaya, lying in a drunken mess at his feet. "You really don't look like you make brownies."

"I have _sisters_ ," he says, like this explains everything.

"Brownies, though. Can I have a one?"

"Yes!"

Izaya gets up and prances off to the kitchen, coming back with a mostly empty plate.

"Man, these are good," Shizuo says, after he's taken a bite. _And you're a nice drunk_ , he thinks. _What the fuck._

* * *

 

"Izaya," he says later,  when he's tipsy enough to ask and Izaya looks tipsy enough to answer. "What happened to you? Where've you been?"

Izaya drains the rest of his glass and ignores him. He is a little further gone than Shizuo.

"Come on," Shizuo urges. "I need to know."

"So you can tell the reporters?"

He's still smiling like he finds the whole thing funny, but just like that the edge is back in his voice, and Shizuo recognises it even through the booze.

"No," he says honestly. "I hate them. I won't tell anyone. I just want to know."

"There's nothing to tell." He puts his glass down and nearly misses the table. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I left," he says. "Someone I sort of knew approached me, and I - I’m not blind, Shizu-chan, I know people don’t like me. So when someone- “ He shakes his head, tries again. “When you’re in that situation and someone is kind to you, when you’re on too many painkillers and you’re still in pain…” he trails off, shrugs. “You get stupid. You fall for it.”

Shizuo absorbs this, trying to make sense of it. It's nowhere what he'd thought of when Izaya had disappeared. It's much, much worse. 

“I’m glad you’re not disabled,” he hears himself mumbling. “Or dead.”

Izaya groans. “Oh, don’t. Don’t let this get weird. I'd rather you throw something at me.”

Shizuo pays no attention to him.

"Seriously, I felt so bad about it. I mean, I’m 27 now and it’s still the same shit, I’m still losing my temper and wrecking things. And, I know it’s stupid and I don’t know why but it was like, fuck, it was like I missed you when you went away.”

Izaya is smiling at him again. It's alcohol fuelled, but it's better than a smirk. Then he starts laughing.

"Chill, I'm not laughing at you," he says. He leans forward and tops up Shizuo’s glass. “I'm laughing at myself. I was just thinking of how I had a crush on you at school.”

Shizuo stares at him. Izaya slurs his words slightly, and it takes him a moment to decipher what he says. 

Izaya is still giggling. 

“Shinra never let me hear the end of it.”

He knocks back the remainder of the bottle, not bothering with his glass.

“You’re lying,” Shizuo says, but Izaya is laughing too hard to hear him. He raises his voice, because it suddenly seems important to him, and not the drunken bullshit it surely is. “Why were you so fucking vile to me then?”

“Because,” he says, like it’s an answer.

He stretches and arches his back, and Shizuo, without really knowing he's doing it, finds his eyes falling to where Izaya’s shirt rises. Izaya sees this and grins. “Are you checking me out, Shizu-chan?”

“No,” he snaps, looking away. Fucking flea. 

"Relax, I'm just winding you up. Everything's weird and fucked up enough as it is." 

Shizuo says nothing.

"Are you staying?" Izaya swings his legs to the floor, sitting up. After laughing, he looks more himself than ever. "I might go to bed. Do you need - "

He freezes when Shizuo kisses him. He goes with it for a moment, as if by instinct, but he puts his hands on Shizuo's shoulders when Shizuo tries to pull him closer. 

“Mm, I can't,” he says, pushing back. “I can't.”

“Oh.” Shizuo lets go of him like he's been burnt. “Sorry.”

Izaya gets up, takes his time clearing the bottles and turning off the TV. "Are you staying over?"

He keeps his back turned to Shizuo as he asks, and even through the haze of alcohol, Shizuo can feel the shame of it creeping over him. _You made a pass at Izaya. At_ Izaya.

"Shizuo?"

“Huh? Oh, I couldn’t.” His face is still flaming. 

Izaya sees it and laughs, throws one of the cushions at him. “We’re _drunk,_ Shizuo, it’s all good. You have no idea how many times I came close to doing that to you." He says it casually enough, but he doesn't quite meet Shizuo's eyes. "Are you staying the night?"

"You're in the spare room."

"Yes, I am."

Shizuo follows him in there, still half blind with drink and embarrassment, and Izaya throws off his shirt and jeans as if nothing has happened, and Shizuo has to swallow at the sight of his body.

“You can get in, if you want,” Izaya calls sleepily, once he gets under the covers. He mumbles something else and falls asleep midsentence.

Shizuo looks at him for a moment. Then he swears and passes out beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

Shizuo wakes too hot in the night, dry mouthed and out of it. His hand is between someone else’s thighs. His erection is back.

“Fuck.”

Izaya mumbles something next to him. 

“My fucking head,” Shizuo groans, cradling it. “What time is it?”

Izaya grumbles something under the covers. Unlike Shizuo, aside from being woken up, he does not seem particularly distressed.

“What am I supposed to say to Shinra and Celty?”

“Tha’ we go’wasted n’ slept," he mumbles. "Or go out the window. I don't fucking care."

Shizuo sits there swearing in whispers and cradling his head, hating Izaya all over again. 

Izaya sighs like he’s the biggest nuisance in the world and gets up. Shizuo wonders whether he's actually trying to find a window for him, until he comes back and presses something cold into Shizuo's side. 

"Hair of the dog."

"I don't want- " he starts as Izaya leans over him, trapping Shizuo between Izaya’s body and his good arm, while his other fumbles for the bottle. He somehow gets it open and holds it to Shizuo’s mouth.

It occurs to Shizuo that Izaya is still quite drunk.

He drinks.

“Does it help?” Izaya demands. He tips back the remainder  without waiting for an answer.

"No," he says, and pulls back the bottle before he can get much of it in his mouth. Shizuo catches hold of his wrist when he tries to get it back.

Izaya goes still, and even though he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, Shizuo somehow knows what he's thinking.

"You said no," he says.

"Well, now I'm saying yes."

He pulls his wrist free and lets himself on Shizuo’s mouth, and this time he doesn't pull back.

* * *

In the morning, Shinra and Celty are bemused by the empty bottles and cookie crumbs, and distinct lack of blood and chaos.

"You guys have a little party?"

They both groan and avoid each other's eyes. Hair of the fucking dog. He feels like shit.

He expects Celty to question him on it in private, but he supposes the truth is too crazy to believe even if they insisted on it.

They had been quiet after all, careful, even, because of Izaya’s arm and Shizuo’s leg. It had been intense but not rough. He remembers there had been a lot of kissing, which isn’t like him, perhaps because they were drunk and it was lazy and easy. A lot of fumbling. Heat and urgency, but they weren't loud. Maybe they'd got away with it. 

“F’they hear anything" Izaya had mumbled. "They'll just think I’m masturbating,” and Shizuo had nearly come there and then just at the thought of Izaya masturbating.

Izaya meets Shizuo’s eye now, when they are smoking out of earshot, with his old telepathy.

“I know,” he says, with not a hint of mockery. “Weird, wasn’t it?”

* * *

He expects to get over it in a few weeks. A few nights reliving it, jerking off, imagining _(wanting)_ more, fine, but when he's still restless almost a month later, well, that's not good. He could see by the set of Izaya's face when he left that nothing had changed, but still. He can't help it. He wants to go back. He hates himself for it.

Before Izaya, he'd been in a relationship with a girl he'd met in an ice-cream parlour, who was so sweet and so kind that he could never relax around her. Sex drained him with the effort of holding back, terrified of hurting her. He grew indifferent, almost resentful, and hated himself for it because she was so nice, so good to him, everyone he knew said he'd made a mistake when he'd let her go.

Not that it's relevant. He just needs to find a balance between good sex and a good person.

He drops Izaya into his conversations with Celty as casually as he can, but she never gives much away. The next time they're chatting, however, she's asking him for cooking tips, and he jumps on the chance to bring a recipe book round. He tells himself he's being stupid. There is literally no reasonable scenario in which something could happen. But, he goes round even so. It may be his imagination, but Shinra gives him a bit of a look when he shows up, but Shizuo thinks nothing of it. He is probably worried they will fight sooner or later and break something.

Celty makes him tea and they talk. He makes encouraging noises as she flips through the book, trying to find something easy yet worthy as a challenge. He's itching for a cigarette. Shinra sees where he's going and shakes his head, but Shizuo takes no notice. They'd had sex. It's not like things could get any worse.

Except, apparently, they could.

Izaya is chain-smoking, for one thing, actually inhaling the smoke, and his eyes are red when they meet Shizuo's. Shizuo can practically feel the tension radiating off him, and almost wants to duck straight back out again, cigarette or no.

“Hi."

“Hi.”

Izaya goes back to staring out, narrow-eyed. He doesn't make an attempt at conversation. 

Shizuo shifts uncomfortably.

“How long are you here for, anyway?”

“Tomorrow. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“You're staying in Ikebukuro, or- ?”

“No.”

The edge doesn't leave his voice. Sex with him had clearly not been some kind of truce. Somehow it makes him bitter with disappointment, although he doesn't know how he could have expected anything else. 

"All right." Shizuo huffs into his own smoke. “Just asking.”

Izaya smokes down the rest of his cigarette. He reaches for another one, looks stunned to find the pack empty.

“Want one of mine?”

Izaya jerks his head up at the proffered cigarettes. He stares at them for a moment and crumples his own pack in his fist.

“No.”

He gets up and goes inside. Shizuo hears the bedroom door shut, not slammed, but hard enough to suggest he’s not coming back.

Shinra comes out after a moment and smiles at him sympathetically. He says nothing, but Shizuo wonders how much he knows.

“What’s with him, somebody die?” Shizuo jerks his head in Izaya's direction.

Shinra fidgets a moment.

“Somebody died,” he admits.


	6. Chapter 6

Izaya takes the fifth place he views after barely looking at it. He can’t be bothered with apartment hunting when some days he can barely be bothered getting dressed, but he doesn't want to impose on Shinra and Celty any longer than he has to.

He could of course call good old Namie and have her handle everything, make the process much smoother, but he needs a little more time to himself. A little more time avoiding people who hate him.

He’s not hurt by Shiki’s sudden death, he tells himself. He’s not that fucked up. Hell, he’s happy. He can relax now; even Shiki’s goons will be useless without direction, and they wouldn’t come near Ikebukuro without Shiki paying them handsomely to do so. He's won. Except, it doesn't feel like winning.

He finds that one of Shiki’s associates is living in his old place. His perfect apartment with its high windows and its bookcases and pristine furniture. He’d probably moved in the minute Izaya took up with Shiki. Probably destroyed everything he found out of spite. Pity. He could do with a good book right about now.

He’s not quite sure what to do with himself. Most of his old involvements had been for pleasure more than profit. He can support himself well enough, finding Shiki had indeed not touched his money, and his sisters' monthly allowance had kept the account from being closed. So, he spends a significant amount of time in bed.

He doesn’t consider himself depressed, although he knows Shinra would beg to differ. He considers himself _safe_ and therefore the happiest he’s ever been, and probably ever will be again. It seems inconceivable that he’d had any kind of existence before Kanto, before Shiki. He ignores it all as best he can.

Shinra still calls, now and then.

He never asks, but Izaya can tell he’s expecting him to turn up in a skip somewhere, or maybe dead by his own hand. And Izaya can’t reassure him because that is of course the reality, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Masaomi, of all people, also calls.

“Heard you’re back,” he says, with no preamble. He sounds older, less sullen. “Want me to fill you in?”

“No thanks,” he says. He doesn’t ask how Masaomi got his number. He doesn’t really care. He’s back in people’s circuits, back on the radar. He supposes it is an opportunity. Masaomi is still there, like he’s waiting for more. “I’m quite busy with other things.”

“Oh.” Masaomi sounds a little put out. He struggles to mask it. “Where’ve you been, anyway?”

“Not been missing me, have me, Masaomi?” Izaya chides. He slides back on his pillows. “And here I was under the impression you hated me.”

“Yeah, well, better the devil you know, right?”

“But you’ve had two years to get to know others.”

“Yeah, and it turns out you’re not the worst person in the world.”

Izaya lets out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

There’s a little silence. Izaya notes that Masaomi has become more perceptive. He’ll have to watch that.

“Just contact me if you ever need anything,” he tells Masaomi, with no forethought. He doesn’t know why he says it. He hangs up without waiting for a reply.

* * *

He gets even more on edge when Namie rings. He’ll have to up his game, if news is spreading this fast. If he can bring himself to go out.

“Welcome back, brat,” Namie says with her usual candour. It makes him smile. “Need an office slave again?”

“Heh, not as yet, thanks. I’ve missed you too.”

“Whatever. Call me if you do. I suppose I was getting used to you.”

* * *

 

He tells himself that this is fine. Living the way he does. Sometimes it gets a little unbearable. Sometimes he panics for no reason. But it always goes away again.

He maintains steady relationships with Shinra and Celty, which surprises him. He finds himself thinking about people, vaguely, from time to time, and he knows they’re talking about him, but he can’t relax outside of his apartment. He thinks of Shizuo, vaguely, because the whole night had been a dream he'd once had, and  when he does eventually venture out more, he hopes he doesn't run into him. He'd felt so normal at the time, yet now he couldn't bear the thought of someone touching him ever again.

He looks at the package on the edge of his bed. He'd collected it from his mail ago and hadn't been able to bring himself to open it, because he doesn't know what it is, isn't expecting anything, and it's bound to be something to worry about. Just looking at it makes him uneasy. He stares at the box, tempted just to throw it out and be done with it. 

_Grow up_ , he thinks tiredly, and goes into the kitchen for a knife. He has to hack it open, growing more on edge by the minute, only to deflate when it turns out to be nothing more box of junk.

Mystified, he opens the attached letter, thinking it must be a mistake.

_Dear Mr Orihara,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. You don’t know me, but I am the mother of Shiki. His Father and I have had nothing to do with him due to his choices in life, but we understand from a friend that you were his closest companion. We took the liberty of sending you what we could salvage of his possessions. Do with it what you will._

_Regards,_

The signature is ineligible.

Izaya reads the letter again. His hands shake. _His closest companion_. Really, he should laugh. He should really, really laugh.

He can’t.

He sucks in all the air he can get. Goes through the box.

School reports. Old records. Books. A teddy bear. Izaya’s switchblades. Ties. A few gold lighters. A watch. Some expensive ornaments from other countries, school trophies, even a half finished bottle of his fucking cologne.

The records go first - they're the easiest to smash against the wall. Once he starts he can’t stop and he hurls everything, tears everything apart, uses his teeth ad the knife when he has to. 

His arms hurt. He’s cut his hands somehow. He’s breathing hard and his chest hurts. He is so furious he can barely see straight.

He eyes what is left in the box and  pockets it, forcing himself calm. It’s time he went out.


	7. Chapter 7

He's drifting around town doing nothing in particular, but he keeps to the parks, the outskirts, were things happen. He's not completely out of it. He finds Shiki’s business partner almost by accident. 

It’s the stuff of bad mangas, too good to be true. He can’t believe his luck. The fool appears to be confronting not only Celty, but Celty and Shizuo. How delightful, how win-win. He’s leaning against a tree, as blasé as possible, and even from this distance, Izaya can feel Shizuo getting mad. He takes a seat somewhere out of sight to watch.

“I know what you are,” the man is saying to Celty, and Izaya almost gives himself away laughing. These people don’t know Ikebukuro _at all_. “Don’t think you can’t be taken care of just like the rest of the vermin in this city.”

 “That’s cute,” Izaya remarks. He can’t help himself.

The man snaps his head around. They all stare at him like he’s the living dead. Which, he supposes, he is.

“Izaya,” he nods, already turning back. “Stay out of this. You’re not what you used to be.”

He yelps in shock as a blade knifes through his trouser blade, pinning him to the trunk, just grazing his skin.

“You’re right,” Izaya says thoughtfully. He turns another knife in his hand, another Shiki had taken off him. He is still sitting down. He had thrown the knife in near dark. “Never missed before.” He shrugs and takes aim again.

Shizuo and Celty are still staring, frozen in place, as if unsure whether to intervene.

“Izaya,” the man says again, struggling to keep his tone even. He tries to pull the blade free, and of course he can’t. “Calm down.”

“I am calm.” He sounds almost bored. “What do you think I am, Shizuo Heiwajima?”

He smirks at Shizuo as he says it, but before Shizuo can react, he throws another blade, between the man’s legs this time, burying in the tree inches from his crotch.

 “And I hadn’t finished,” he adds lazily. He takes out his spare knife and twirls it. “I want my apartment back. And I want everything that was in it back or replaced, and I want it yesterday.”

“Izaya-” 

"Don't fucking 'Izaya' me." His smile turns sweet, patronising. “I don’t think you quite understand the situation,” he says. “Shiki is dead. Your rats are scattering. And more to the point, this is _Ikebukuro_. We have zombies. We have a Dullahan. We have Shizuo Heiwajima. You may not know all this, of course, as my sources tell me you barely spend any time here. But I do. This is my city. And I would advise you not to mess with me here.”

He takes aim again.

“OK!” The man blurts. “Jesus.”

Izaya’s arm falls like he’s disappointed. “You’re so boring,” he complains. He takes a set of car keys out of his pocket, jangles them so the man can see. “Where’s Shiki keep the Jag?”

The man stares for a moment, as if not wanting to admit defeat. Izaya hears him swallow.

“It’s in the city lot under the MSC offices.”

“Thank you." He bows mockingly. He puts the blade away. “And while I’m at it, stop bothering Celty. And, I suppose, anyone she cares about. Celty is the one without the head. She has a name.”

He jumps off the wall he’s been perched on. His eyes roll over Celty and Shizuo.

“Sorry to steal your thunder,” he drawls. “I’ll be on my way now.”

He thinks Shizuo calls after him, but he may have imagined it. He brushes it off. He’s not done.

* * *

 

Shiki’s Ikebukuro offices are deserted, out in the middle of nowhere. Izaya could do more damage back in Kanto, but the properties there are more likely to have people in them, and he’s not here for homicide. He’s not even here for revenge, not really, because Shiki is dead and none of it matters now anyway.

He bricks a window to get in. So amateur, so unnecessary, but he can’t be bothered with more finesse. He shakes the glass off his clothing and turns the alarm off.

He turns on the lights. Breaks into drawers, tossing files and other junk to the floor as he goes. He's not looking for anything in particular. He finds money at one point, unable to tell if its counterfeit or not, and that goes too, scatters like confetti, lands round his feet like chicken feed. He turns over cabinets. Bookcases. He hums as he goes. He’s almost enjoying himself. He finds a bottle of whiskey at one point and empties it over the floor. 

He takes out Shiki’s lighter. He sets the blinds alight first. The edge of a random folder, holding it up as if for dramatic effect, before letting it fall to the litter of Shiki’s life.

He leaves the place burning and backs the car out, still not done.

* * *

 

Jags give such a satisfying, sexy roar when pushed. They're touger than they look. But this one will not be kept in mint condition like all Shiki's others.

The gates to Shiki’s manor fling open against the hood, hardly slowing him. Izaya has never been here, but he knows it. He knows everything about Shiki-san. His staff don’t live in, he hardly uses the place, and there are no other houses for miles. Izaya doesn’t want to think about what Shiki does here.

He pedals the gas harder as the house comes into his headlights. Perhaps this would, and should, kill him.

The airbag punches him with more violence than the crash itself. He comes to with the car roof and metal crumpled above him, bricks around him. He hears a groaning, pained-animal noise, realises it is coming from himself. He tastes blood in his mouth. He waits for it to pass, struggles out. The car is buried half way in Shiki’s living room.

He climbs out the window, his muscles screaming against it, and pushes through the debris to get in the house.

No electricity. He tuts with annoyance. But at least it confirms nobody’s here. He takes out Shiki’s lighter. He’s dripping blood and debris all over Shiki’s fluffy white rug. _Sorry,  Shiki_. He inspects what he can with his makeshift torch, and really, it is so beautiful, it is more a showroom than a home. Plasma television, leather couches, venetian mirrors. Izaya had liked that Shiki had been similar to himself, but now he loathes it, loathes them both equally.

Is this how it feels to be Shizuo, he wonders? This murderous, uncontrollable rage? It’s not even an emotion, it’s like a dark, dark sickness. He could almost feel bad for antagonising Shizuo so much. He doesn’t want to think about it.

He sets alight what he can and attempts to back the car out. It’s in as much of a mess as he is, but it manages it.

It makes it all the way back to Ikebukuro, in the outskirts. He leaves it burning in a safe place.

Déjà vu hits him as he limps along, the very spot where he tried to destroy Shizuo, and Shizuo very nearly destroyed him. So appropriate. He leaves a little breadcrumb trail of blood behind him, should anyone care enough to follow. He smiles and it hurts his jaw. 

He hauls himself up on the edge of the building. It is spectacular. It is perfect. His fires in the distance, the sirens only just catching up with them. This of all things should make him happy.

He looks down.

He, Shiki, all of them, are just fleas, like Shizuo always said, with no purpose on this Earth.

He takes out the lighter, finds it useless, out of fluid. He tuts and lets it drop. Watches it fall. It is a long way down.

“Izaya.”

He jumps, catches the wall for balance, jerking his head around.

“Go away, protozoan!”

He realises, in a distant kind of way, that he has taken out his knife, had no idea when.

“Izaya, get down.” He is not even yelling.

Izaya doesn't move, but his grip tightens on the wall. “What the fuck is this? Was I that good in bed? Leave me alone.”

“Izaya." Shizuo inches forward, hard eyed. “You have to listen to me. I know how this feels. I know how it feels to be so mad you can’t think straight, that you’ll do anything. But trust me, you have to get down.”

He extends his hand. He’s almost close enough to touch. Izaya lets him. It feels like it's happening to somebody else.

Shizuo closes the last few inches between them, and his hand closes around Izaya's wrist, his knife wrist. It’s black with blood and fire. He gives a tug, and Izaya steps down. He keeps hold of Izaya once they’re level. In his grip, on steady ground, Izaya realises he is shaking, light-headed.

“We have to go.”

Somewhere beneath them, the sirens get louder.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this wasn't too over the top and ridiculous. Did my best.


	8. Chapter 8

He flinches awake in a strange bed, groans at the resulting pain. He’s stiff, bandaged and painkiller-ed, but it still _hurts_.

“Hey.” Shizuo stirs next to him. His arm tenses over Izaya’s waist, but he doesn’t take it away. “Relax,” he says, as Izaya struggles to sit up. “Shinra said you have to take it easy”

“Yeah.” His voice sounds odd, like it’s full of dirt. He finds a glass of water on the bedside table and leans over for it. His arms are on fire.

Shizuo is shirtless beneath him, rumpled and as worn looking as Izaya feels, watching Izaya like he might strike, though he’s in no condition to do so.

Izaya closes his eyes. “Hurts."

“Yeah, you’re experiencing your first rage hangover,” Shizuo informs him tiredly. “Welcome to my world.”

“I was thinking that last night,” he mumbles. “Is this what it’s like to be Shizuo Heijawama? It’s exhausting.”

Something catches in his throat and forces him to cough.

“What’s with your throat? Been yelling?”

“Breathed in a lot of smoke.” It’s easier to talk in whispers, so he does that. “I think I’ll actually be arrested for this one, you know. I left my blood everywhere.”

“I doubt it,” Shizuo says. “If your kind of people were involved. You know what Ikebukuro’s like.”

_His kind of people._

“You’re lucky no-one was hurt,” Shizuo continues.

“I know no-one was,” he huffs, wincing when it hurts his ribs. “No-one was meant to.”  

Shizuo says nothing.

“So what happened?” he asks eventually.

Izaya looks away. “I just got so mad,” he murmurs. “Something made me almost miss him, and that made me realise how far gone I was. Everything that happened I let happen to myself. It wasn’t like he had me chained up in the garden shed. I could have left any time.”

He opens his eyes. Goes cold at the look on Shizuo’s face.

“How much do you know?”

“Huh? I don’t know anything.”

“What did Shinra tell you?”

“Nothing. I didn’t ask.”

Izaya sees by the look on his face that he’s telling the truth. He drops his eyes again. Shit. Like things could have got any worse. “I thought you knew," he says. "I don't know why. Ii was so sure you knew. I thought I'd told you. But why would I tell you?" 

"It's OK."

Shizuo tries to tug him back down, but he leans away.

"I have to go.”

“It’s OK," Shizuo repeats. "Don’t run off.”

Izaya ignores him. “There’s also a very small chance that someone won't be happy with my little rampage.”

“This is the last place anyone would think of looking for you.”

Izaya pauses to consider this. It is a very good point.

“Lie down,” Shizuo tells him, wearily. “Just – lie down, will you?”

Izaya eyes him. “You didn’t know anything, and you still helped me? Why? It wouldn’t have been caused you any problems if I jumped.”

“I told you. I know how it feels. When you’re that mad…” He shakes his head.

“But how did you even know I’d go up there?”

“Just a hunch.”

Izaya thinks about this. He doesn’t lie down. “I still don’t get it,” he says. “So we got drunk and fucked once. Why-  ”

“I don’t fucking know,” Shizuo snaps. “Maybe because as soon as you leave you’ll disappear again, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? You almost killed yourself.”

“I did not,” he snaps back. “I was just…looking.”

“You were really fucking close, Izaya,” he says. “You know you were.”

Izaya says nothing. What can he say? Shizuo’s right. It’s crept up on him before, and surely will again as soon as he goes home and see’s bits of Shiki’s life littering his apartment.

Shizuo sighs. “I was thinking about you a lot.” He practically mutters it, but Izaya hears him. “You remember all that stuff I said when we were pissed, right? I’ve been thinking about how it could have been if things had been different. “

"Ah, don't go there, it doesn't help," he says. "And anyway, it's not your fault. I wouldn’t have talked to me, either.” He goes to shift back down, hesitates. “I - don’t want to let anyone near me for a long time," he says. 

“I know,” Shizuo says. “It’s fine. You can stay here anyway.”

His arms hurt. He lets himself back down at Shizuo’s side.

 “On the bright side,” Izaya’s tone lifts. “I can’t call you a monster anymore, after the couple of years I’ve had.”

Shizuo snorts. “You won’t call me anything if you know what’s good for you.”

Izaya laughs, winces when it hurts his chest. “Shizu-chan,” he teases.

“I thought you'd left again.” Shizuo mutters, barely audibly. “After I saw you at Shinra's. I never see you around.”

“I never go out,” he says. “And I definitely won’t now. Whole damn town will look at me and know.”

Shizuo shakes his head. “After last night, everyone’s scared to death of you. And they think it was all because of me.”

“Really?” Izaya’s face breaks out into a grin.

“Don’t fucking smile, flea, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not funny, it’s perfect! People are afraid of me again! And you - it's like the status quo is back, right?”

"It's not, and that's the last thing I want." He shakes his head and sits up, clearly realising sleep isn't going to be an option. “I was gonna order some junk food. Want some?”

“Urgh, junk food.” Izaya wrinkles his nose.

But he scans the menu when it’s offered to him, selects the least offending item. He is suddenly starving.

“It’ll do you good,” Shizuo tells him. “You need the energy.”

“I look that bad, huh.”

“Nah. But you were too skinny in the first place.”

They watch some dumb movie when their food arrives. They don’t cuddle, and they don’t talk. The situation is bizarre enough. Shizuo watches the movie. Izaya stares at the screen and thinks.

He asks to borrow Shizuo’s laptop, sends an email to both Masaomi and Namie telling them they’re hired. He has some unusual, new energy and he wants to ride the wave for as long as he can. It's a little like when he first got drunk and slept with Shizuo, only there's no alcohol or arousal in it this time. He just feels...he doesn't even know. Safe, maybe. Normal.

He has Namie arrange for his old things –they hadn't been destroyed, amazingly, and it gives him a childlike burst of joy to know all his books are safe and waiting for him – to be checked over, but not unpacked or rearranged. He wants to do that himself.  Masaomi can help if his arms can't take it. 

He does it all in silence, save for his injury-impaired typing, but Shizuo sees something on his face.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s great you’re coming back to yourself and all, but can you not…”

“I won’t,” Izaya murmurs, not taking his eyes from the screen. “I’m limiting my activities now, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Shizuo offers him something fried and disgusting. It tastes good enough to make him groan. Perhaps he really did need calories. “I'm surprised you haven't been back to Russia Sushi yet. Simon will be hurt."

“The whole world hangs out there. And I have to take my sisters out somewhere before I can do anything fun. They're probably planning to track me down and ambush me right now."

“Cute.”

Izaya glares at him. “It's not cute, it’s a strategic necessity.”

“Sure.”

Shinra calls, asks to speak to him. Izaya takes the phone away from the movie and they talk properly for the first time in months, for over an hour.

"Good to know you've woken up," Shinra says, oddly cheerful considering what's happened. Then again, it's Shinra. "Only you would do it in the most violent way possible. Speaking of violence, how's it going with Shizuo?"

Izaya growls in annoyance at his tone. 

"I thought so," the doctor says smugly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. Hope it's fine. I only had like a skeleton draft of it, and there was other stuff going on. But it will be finished soon :) Thanks so much for comments and kudos so far!


	9. Chapter 9

He stays longer than he means to. Shizuo never mentions leaving. They don’t fuck, they barely even touch, but they sleep in the same bed and it's – it's OK. All of it is OK. He is spaced out half of the time and sometimes he forgets where he is. Sometimes Shizuo will say something with a look like it's the third time he's had to say it, but it never escalates into a row. Izaya never antagonises him. He sleeps well, recovers slowly, and stares at Shizuo's computer in between.

He thinks of going back to his apartment and the mess and the missed calls, but he isn't entirely convinced he won't walk straight past it all and out the window.

It feels like a lifetime when it's merely days, including his 12 hour or so sleep on arrival, when he overhears Shizuo on the phone. He knows at once it’s Shinra. At least, he hopes it’s Shinra, or Shinra will have hell to pay for disclosing his business to other people.

“I don’t know. I think he still hates me,” Shizuo is saying from the other room. “That’s why I’m asking you. He’s so quiet now. He speaks to you on the phone more than here speaks to me here.”

Izaya’s hands clench under the covers. Definitely Shinra.

Shizuo’s voice comes ang goes. He’s obviously pacing. His apartment's fucking tiny. He should go out, or have the courtesy to ensure Izaya's actually asleep, if he's going to talk about him behind his back. It infuriates him and he doesn’t know why.

Izaya forces himself up. Barely nods at Shizuo on the way past and locks himself in the bathroom.

He has a long, long shower and he tries to let go of the urge to throw everything he can find out of window. Is this who he is now, prone to these sudden, black rages forever? He doesn’t even know what he’s mad about. It's not like Shizuo had been sneering at him.

He gets out of the shower. Puts on his freshly washed clothes.

“Hey,” he greets a now phoneless Shizuo with false brightness, who’s sitting tense on the couch and pretending to watch TV. “How’s Shinra?”

“I was just asking him how you were. I wasn’t criticising you.”

“Wouldn’t _I_   be a more reliable judge of that? And a more convenient source seeing as I'm, you know, _right here_?”

Shizuo twitches just slightly, like he might want to throw something himself.

“You don’t talk to me.”

“I don’t talk to anyone.”

“You talk to Shinra and Celty.”

This irritates him. “That’s different,” he says. “They helped me. I owed them an explanation at the very least.” He doesn't want to confront the reality that it is now Shizuo who is helping him. He already hates himself.

Shizuo looks at him now, and it cuts through some of the anger.

“Do you think I’d hit you?”

Izaya stares at him.

“What?”

The thought is so proposterous he almost laughs.

Shizuo keeps on looking at him, unblinking.

“Is that what it is? You think I’d- “

“No,” he says, and he’s genuinely amused, tickled by the irony of it all. “I think you’re probably the last man in Ikebukuro who would hit me.”

He means it. For everything Shizuo has done, everything he is, Izaya knows he's as soft as butter underneath and wouldn't hit Izaya in these circumstances even if his life depended on it. He just -  wouldn't.

Shizuo blinks at him in surprise, and Izaya shrugs.

“I’m an informant, Shizuo, I kind of have to be perceptive.”

Izaya notes how his shoulders ease with relief. The hitting thing had apparently been bugging him. He shrugs on his coat.

“I’m also going out.”

Shizuo glances at the clock. It’s almost midnight. “Now?”

“Yep. I’m feeling much better, and I need some air.”

Shizuo looks at him, and Izaya rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to off myself or anyone else. I’m just in a bad mood, and we can’t have your tiny protozoan brain thinking it’s your fault, can we?”

The malice in this comes out of its own accord, because he’s still pissed, but Shizuo barely seems to process it. Izaya realises he’s trying to ask whether or not he’s coming back. Half of him wants to reassure him, the other makes it worse. The latter wins, and he gives a patronising smile before Shizuo can figure it out.

“See you later.”

He barely resists the satisfaction of a door slam on the way out.

* * *

 

He’d been wary of Ikebukuro since coming back, but now he’s so mad, he almost wants someone to approach him. He dares anyone to just fucking _try_ to piss him off, and give him a chance to vent.

A mere 10 minutes or so stalking around and it begins to deflate. His legs hurt. He has emails from Celty and Namie waiting for him, unopened on Shizuo's laptop, and this hurts too, all these stupid people who somehow still want him in their lives.

“I’m a horrible person,” he mumbles out loud. He used to talk to himself quite a lot, before the Shiki days. Really, in terms of mental health, Shiki didn't have much to work with. It would have been easy, like pushing a buggy off a building - he did most of the work himself.

He keeps walking until he’s calm. Calmer. His legs still hurt. A few people glance at him several times on passing, not because they recognise him, but because his bruises haven't quite faded yet. He puts up his hood. Still, it's good to know he can mostly wander around Ikebukuro in peace.

He circles back towards Shizuo’s apartment and, on passing a 24 hour convenience store, goes in on a whim and gets himself some dark chocolate. He hasn’t had it in years. He buys ice-cream for Shizuo as well, also on a whim.

It’s at the checkout when it happens. He’s just picking up his bag when a man passes him to use the other machine. A man who meets his eyes and holds them.

It’s like a knife to his heart. Izaya somehow keeps moving, glides his eyes on like nothing has happened, and walks out of the store. His insides are cold and he’s shaking all over. He feels automatically for his phone and swears when he remembers he doesn't have it. He goes into the phone booth across the road instead.

“I saw him,” he blurts, before Shinra can speak. “I saw Shiki. In the grocery store. He’s not dead.”

“What? He can’t be.”

“I saw him!” Izaya has to struggle to control his voice. “He was looking right at me.”

“OK, calm down. Listen to me. Even if it is him, he can't do anything at a grocery store. What are you doing there at this hour? Is Shizuo with you?”

“No."

“OK.” There’s a little pause. “Izaya,” he says, in his careful tone, like when he’d told Izaya the truth about his legs. “I saw Shiki’s body myself. You’ve been under a lot of strain lately. You know, when someone dies, it’s perfectly normal to…”

Izaya doesn’t hear the rest. He’s staring at the store doors. The man comes out, and he is clearly illuminated by the store lights. Same height as Shiki, same gait, similar clothing, same hair. And it is clearly not Shiki. He crosses the street, passes Izaya right under the streetlights without batting an eye at him, and it is not Shiki. It is nothing like him.

Shinra is still talking.

“Izaya? You there?”

“It’s not him.” He feels funny.

“It’s not?”

“No. I just saw him again. Properly.” He closes his eyes. “What’s the matter with me?”

“Izaya, it’s a perfectly normal reaction. Don't worry about it."

He mumbles thanks and hangs up.

Finds himself going back across the street and back into the store just in case, but he knows in his heart of hearts that Shiki's not there.

It’s a small store, near deserted at this hour, and it’s easy for him to check each aisle.

A staff member finds him standing there looking confused. She’d sort of been checking him out, but he’s oblivious to that sort of thing these days.

“Forget something?”

He blinks at her, then looks back down one of the aisles.

“Uh, just thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Not many people have been in,” she smiles, trying to be helpful. “What did they look like?”

“Um, that’s OK. Thanks.”

He backs away and leaves. Walks blind until he realises he’s at Shizuo’s apartment. Just after one. Shizuo would be asleep, or wanting to sleep, and Izaya doesn’t have a key.

“Hey,” he says guiltily, when Shizuo opens the door. “I bought you some ice-cream.” He pushes the bag at him and goes past into the apartment.

“Uh, thanks. Did something happen?" Shizuo calls to his back. "You’re really pale.”

“No. Yes. No.”

He goes into the bathroom to get away from him. Brushes his teeth and splashes his face with cold water.

All the lights are out when he's done, Shizuo already back in bed. The apartment’s small, and Izaya has been able to move around in the dark since his second night there.

He undresses and slides into bed without lying down, begins to massage his sore legs.

“Are you all right?”

Shizuo turns to face him but doesn’t come any closer.

“Yeah.” He rubs his eyes and gives a little laugh, sinking back into the pillows. “Just, losing my mind.”

He gives up on his legs and starts thinking instead.

“What happened?” Shizuo says. “Tell me.”

Izaya shakes his head. He thinks that will be the end of it, but after a few minutes or so, Shizuo asks again, when it’s clear Izaya isn’t going to help him out. 

"Where did you go?"

“The convenience store.”

“For an hour?”

“I was walking too,” he says. He hesitates. “I thought I saw him. But it wasn’t. And now Shinra thinks I’m mental.”

“I doubt that.”

Izaya shakes his head.

“I have to go,” he says slowly.

“What?” Shizuo moves in bed, as if to physically stop him. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Not now,” he says. “Generally, I mean. Tomorrow. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Why?”

He thinks of his anger and his panic in the store and how to explain it. “I’m really fucked up.”

Shizuo gives a shrug. “Yeah, we’ve been through all that.”

Izaya finds himself laughing again, an awful, choked up sound. “That’s the thing, though. We really, really haven’t. We haven’t been through any of it.”

“It’s all right," Shizuo says.

Izaya looks at him, and he seems to feel it in the dark.

“I mean, it’s not all right, but – it’s all right with me, I mean. You’re in a bad place. It’ll get better.”

Izaya shakes his head, but he finds himself thinking about this. He’d begun to dig his nails into his skin, an old habit, and forces himself to stop.

“You think?”

“Don’t you?”

Izaya rubs his arm where he’d been clawing it.

“Tonight made me think I’m not getting any better.”

“Why? You’ll have good days and bad days.”

The logic of this surprises him a little. Since when had Shizu-chan been so insightful? Izaya peers at him in the dark.

“Have you always been this nice?”

Shizuo thinks about it.

“Not to you.”

They go quiet for a while.

"Don't you feel better now he's dead?"

"Better?" Izaya echoes. He thinks about this. "Has anyone close to you ever died?"

"Not really.”

"My cousin died when I was 12," he says. "We weren't super best friends or anything, but we knew each other from when we were very little, and after he died, after the funeral and everything, I kept kind of forgetting he was dead. I mean, I'd be thinking about it,  and literally about a minute later I'd be thinking of seeing him again in summer or something. And even when I was thinking about it, it felt like he was - I don't know, just off in a different school or neighbourhood or something. But not dead. I couldn't get my head around the fact that he was dead. To me he just wasn't there. And it's not like I think about him much now, but, when I do, it’s like...I'm 27 now, and I still think of him as this kid who lives across town and goes to a different school. Not dead. Do you know what I mean?"

He lies there with a strange taste in his mouth. He doesn't know why he's telling him any of this, he hasn't even told Shinra, but once he started he couldn't stop.

"My point is...I'm an adult now, I get death, but Shiki doesn't feel dead. It feels like he's - there, in Kanto, doing whatever it is he does."

Izaya can see Shizuo’s hand lying near the pillow in the dark, and quite wants to take hold of it. But, he imagines the feeling won’t last very long, and he doesn’t want to send out mixed signals when he has to let go again. He still hasn't spoken, but Izaya can feel he's awake, listening. 

“I still have to go,” Izaya tells him. He tries to lighten the mood. “You can come over sometime. I can make brownies.”

Shizuo ignores this, refusing to be distracted.

"Did you ever try to leave before?"

"Once," he admits. "He was out somewhere, and I went out on the balcony for a look - which I did a lot, to be fair, it calmed me down - and I just, really wanted to. I couldn't bear the thought of going back inside. Then he came home early, and I went inside and tried to pretend everything was fine, but I knew he could tell something was up and I thought he was going to do something awful, but he was really nice. He was nice for weeks. It got a little better after that."

He sighs.

"You don't get it," he says now. "It's not like I'm - like I'm just off sex. It's everything. I don't want anyone touching me, or being near me, or even fucking looking at me sometimes. It drives me insane."

"But it won't always be like that," Shizuo says.

He says nothing.

“You can tell me if you're not OK," he says. "Or if you need space or something. You don’t have to freak out about it. You should just talk about it.”

“I don’t talk to anyone,” he says.

“You talk to Shinra.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Why?  Because – because he’s Shinra. I’ve known him forever. He knows all my bullshit. We've been through this.”

“You trust him.”

“Well.”

“I may not know you as well as Shinra, but I know you well enough to know when to back off. And you just have to tell me if I miss something. I can’t read your mind.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because,” he says, irritated. “You asked.”

“So it’s not helping?” he says. “Talking.”

“What is this, 20 questions?” he says tiredly. “Why are you doing this, Shizu-chan? Why are you trying so hard?”

Izaya feels him shrug.

“I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something there.”

“Ah, Shizuo,” Izaya sighs. “There really isn’t. People think there’s more to me because I can talk well and figure stuff out, but, there really isn’t.”

 "Shut up, Izaya-kun," Shizuo says, equally tired. "You don't get to decide what I think about you."

Izaya says nothing for a long time. Then, when Shizuo thinks he is asleep, he gives in and takes the protozoan's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE more chapter left, I swear. This one was meant to be like an epilogue, but it didn't feel epilogue-y enough. So one more, then I promise I won't keep adding them. Thank you for your patience and reading!


	10. Chapter 10

It hits him one night when they had been bickering or bitching about something, and Izaya had taken his hand out of the blue: warmth had surged through him so suddenly it was almost unpleasant. Izaya had gone to sleep holding his hand as casually as anything, while Shizuo had lay there with his heart in his mouth, vaguely terrified that something so simple could make him feel so much, the implications of it.

_The way this feels, I could fall for him, I could love him._

Which is a shame as, the next day, Izaya finally insists on leaving. 

“I knew it,” Shinra says triumphantly, when Shizuo finally caves and tells them. “It was that night you stayed over, right? I knew it would happen sooner or lately. He’s liked you since school.”

“I don't know," Shizuo says. "Sometimes I catch him looking at me like he hates me.”

 _-It's because it's too soon,_ Celty types quickly, and Shizuo can't help wondering if she's right. 

Even Shinra tells him not to get attached, not yet.

“I thought you guys were just fooling around," he says, with his usual tact. "Give it a little longer before, you know, anything else."

As if he had any control over his own stupidity.

"Come and see me, Shizu-chan," Izaya says when he leaves, and even though he says it like he means it, Shizuo doesn't believe him, and it doesn't make him feel any better.

He doesn't get in touch with Izaya, doesn't hear anything about him, but the informant calls himself about a week later, and says irritably, with no preamble,

"Do you want to come over for brownies or not?"

* * *

Shizuo never expected to like Shinjuku.

He’d never thought about the place much before other than as Izaya’s territory, but after a few weekends there, after a very tentative routine starts to develop, he finds it growing on him. He likes going to sleep and not waking up to the blare of traffic. He likes how there are more parks, more open spaces, less crowds, shorter lines for coffee. There are no zombies or weird shit, the kids don’t all look like gangs in training. There’s more sun, as the buildings aren't so crowded together, better sunsets. It’s a pleasant change of air.  He understands why Izaya left Ikebukuro in the first place all those years ago.

It is like a weekly respite for him. He even smokes less, as Izaya won’t let him smoke in bed and he can’t always be bothered getting up.

He wonders how many people have clicked on. Celty and Shinra wouldn’t gossip, but it’s quite obvious even to those who don't know him well that he’s out of town every weekend.

 _-We never see you anymore,_ Celty types, whenever they catch up. _–How’s it going?_

He dodges the question, vaguely tells her the neighbourhood is more peaceful.

He doesn't tell her that the third time he tried to leave, Izaya had said, "Where are you going?" and pulled him back by the shirt to kiss him. "I told you I'm a mess," he explained, when Shizuo just looked stunned. "If you want to go ahead and risk it anyway, that's your problem."

He doesn't tell her how close he's come to the _L_ word.

He also doesn’t tell her that that, except for that last night at Shizuo's place, even after they'd started having sex, Izaya still hasn't told him a thing. That he will sit there with his eyes narrowed and his hands ice-cold when he's having a bad night, usually with some form of furniture between them, that he'll look at Shizuo blankly like he can't remember why he's here, or sometimes even resentfully, like he regrets ever letting the other man near him. That sometimes he is distant, he will push food at Shizuo absently and not eat any himself, give Shizuo a wide berth, and answer 'yes' or 'fine' to literally anything he says. 

That some days he doesn’t even answer the phone, always has some flimsy excuse or lie for it.

Or that he's secretly afraid Izaya will one day decide it’s too much effort and just cut him off, or worse. 

He gets a call from Izaya one night, and Shizuo can tell right away that there's something off about his voice.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Mm, s'all right. Are you OK?"

"Mm-hmm. I'm drunk. Hammered, actually."

"OK," he says, waking up a little bit more. "How come? Did you go out?"

Izaya doesn't say anything for a long time.

"I was sad," he says eventually. "Do you want to come over? I want to have sex."

He glances at the clock, even though there's no question of him going.

"I'll come over, but we're not having sex. Not when you're hammered."

"What?" He's so outraged it's almost funny. "What do you mean? We've done it drunk before."

"I know. I don't want it to become a thing."

"You're such a girl," he complains. Then his voice wavers. "I've been sad," he says again. "I miss you."

"You should have said."

"It's not so bad when you're here," he says. "It's when you're not."

"I'm coming now," he says. "Just hang on."

By the time he gets there, of course, Izaya is dead to the world and claims to remember nothing. But he doesn't protest when Shizuo starts coming over more often.

* * *

 

Another few months down the line and Shizuo hasn’t said anything to anyone, least of all to Izaya, but the lease on his apartment is coming up in just over six weeks, and...well. His landlord hasn’t contacted him, assuming he’s staying on, like every year. Another year of the same shit. He's maybe getting ahead of himself, but he can't help it. 

No-one in Shinjuku is afraid of him the way they are in Ikebukuro. Although he’d calmed down a lot over the years, his reputation in Ikebukuro would always be stuck. He’s tired of it.

But, he needs to think about this more carefully.

He still works in Ikebukuro. All his friends are there. Shinjuku is still very much Izaya’s territory.

And besides, he couldn’t afford the rent, and he doesn’t know how comfortable he is with someone else paying the lion’s share.

And most importantly, he hasn’t so much as hinted at any of this to Izaya, and Izaya hasn’t brought it up.

Izaya, with an irony that is lost on neither of them, is staying out of Ikebukuro when he can help it. He’s pissed off too many people  to ever really save his reputation, and tends to avoid confrontations nowadays.

Izaya may still find a lot of Ikebukuro's bullshit funny, but he doesn’t have to live there. Shizuo does. Sure, Shizuo had developed a kind of masochistic fondness for the place over time, but now he’s just…what? Outgrown it? He has more friends now, and he keeps his temper better, but his life still doesn't feel like it's going forward. He practically lives in Shinjuku already when he’s not working.

But, even at this point, sort of but not quite thinking about moving in, Izaya still hasn’t told him much. He’s as busy as he used to be, his dark humour returns, and he is affectionate in a flippant, almost poker-faced kind of way that’s easy to see through. 

He’s still cocky, still antagonistic, but he’ll hit Shizuo with a pillow when he insults him to show he doesn’t mean it, he'll bring Shizuo a glass of milk in bed and massage his shoulders after work. Even when he has bad days, when he gets a spacey and full of silent anger, he’ll still push food at Shizuo that he won't touch himself and still, usually, come to bed.

So, maybe it still isn't quite time.

But, on the other hand, he thinks back to when Izaya could barely even hold his hand, and thinks of how far they've come. He still doesn't know shit about the bastard who hurt him, but he knows he's been dead for over a year and that Izaya's thrown his lighter out.

And, possibly the most important thing at all, Shizuo _wants_ to. He wants to live with his emotionally disturbed ex-rival who'd made his life hell more than anything.

 

"You're too quiet," Izaya says in his ear one night, straddling him, when he's thinking all this. "What is it?"

"I..."

Shizuo struggles for a moment. Aside from when he's having a bad day, Izaya can generally more or less read his mind, and it's difficult to have to express himself.

"I just get worried sometimes that you might..." he trails off, waiting for Izaya to figure it out, but he just sits back looking puzzled.

"Might what?"

"You know, when you've had a bad day..." he prompts. "Hurt yourself?"

"Oh," he says. He sits back, looking vaguely disturbed at the idea. "Oh, no. I don't think you have to worry about that, not any more."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"You don't know how it feels to be, you know, normal again. Having sex and enjoying it. It's..." He shakes his head, unable to explain. "It's better than I thought. I'm...feeling better."

"OK," he says, feeling an old, old tension uncurl. "Good."

Izaya is still looking at him.

"What else?"

"I...well, I was thinking of moving," he says vaguely. Izaya's eyes brighten with interest.

"Oh, really? You mean closer to Shinjuku, right? I think that's a great idea. You live much too far away. You don't even like Ikebukuro."

Shizuo lets him chatter on, holding him, as he offers up various districts and weighs up their pros and cons. He doesn't clarify that he meant them moving in _together_ , but he doesn't think it'll be too long before he catches on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY.
> 
> NB) Older chapters edited slightly.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for your patience and comments <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for the late finish. Did my best. Thank you!


End file.
